Don't Push Your Luck
by Persian-Slippers
Summary: Cabin Pressure/Sherlock Crossover. The MJN crew are flying a Doctor, a Detective Inspector and a Librarian back to London. Little do they know that one mans three year battle with turmoil and grief is about to end.


**Cabin Pressure/Sherlock Crossover. The MJN crew are flying a Doctor, a Detective Inspector and a Librarian back to London. Little do they know that one mans three year battle with turmoil and grief is about to end.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything.**

**P-S**

Martin didn't particularly care that he had to fly on Christmas eve. He didn't have anywhere else to be and, if he was honest, he preferred being with the ever snide Douglas, the ever moaning Carolyn and the ever...unique Arthur. They were family, whether they admitted it or not, whether they wanted to be or not. Martin sat in the flight deck at Fitton airfield, illuminated by the warm orange glow of the winter morning. Holiday flights were always the best ones, always full of parties' families and festive cheer, sometimes there was even a tip from a warm heart. Martins train of thought was interrupted by an abrupt outburst and slightly tone-deaf version of jingle bells.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, Martin drives the plane! Mum moans, clients groan and Douglas saves the day!"

Martin smiled as Arthur burst through the door. "Oh...skip...didn't know you were here"

"Yep." Martin giggled.

"So you heard my song?".

"I did"

"Right..." Arthur went to say something but instead he just smiled and sat in Douglas's seat looking out the window.

"It's very good Arthur."

"Really? You think so skip?".

"Yeah, it's quite imaginative Arthur" .

"Gee thanks skip" Arthur stood and placed a hand on Martins shoulder. Their peace was abruptly interrupted by Carolyn's harsh shriek of No!.

"But Carolyn!" Douglas' plea echoed throughout the cabin.

"No is no." Arthur moved out of Douglas' way as he moped into flight deck, flopping into his chair.

Martin and Arthur looked at each other and Martin shrugged and gestured 'cup of coffee' to Arthur. Arthur disappeared, leaving Martin unsure as to whether or not he'd actually been understood. He sat for a moment drumming his fingers on his knees. "So...what exploit is Carolyn stopping you from doing this time?"

"None of your ruddy business."

Martin knew Douglas could be temperamental but to this extent? His heart sank and he started his preflight ritual. Arthur returned midway through brandishing two hot beverages, he placed them on the side and retreated away quickly as Carolyn entered.

"Morning, boys! We've got a small group of people today. A doctor, a detective inspector, a librarian and some government official. Take-off is scheduled for 10.30, its currently 9, so get a move on." and with that Carolyn disappeared. Martin looked to Douglas, opened his mouth to say something, but grabbed his cap and left instead.

After checking the cabin he donned his cap and went outside to the small domestic airfield they currently occupied. Not too far away he could see and overhear two men talking. They both had the same shade of grey running through their hair and, judging by the rucksacks they had slung on their backs, probably two of MJNs passengers.

"I'm sure they won't mind if we're early, it's not exactly Air England" the taller one said.

"We should still wait for Mycroft before we board Greg; he did call us in on this case. Though why he needed us I don't know?" said the shorter one. Martin assumed that Greg was about the same height as Douglas and the shorter one was about the same as him. They stood for a while longer with their backs to Martin so he resumed the preflight checks. Just as he was about to ascend the stairs back inside Greg called out to Martin and the pair began to walk over. "Uh..." Greg said looking him over. "Captain?"

"Captain Crieff" Martin stuck out a hand.

"Greg Lestrade" Greg smiled shaking it.

"Doctor John Watson". The shorter man said nodding holding a military-like stance; he did not extend a hand. John Watson?

Martin's brain ticked over. "As in the blog writer?"

Johns face changed from placid to a mix of anger, intrigue, anticipation and hurt. Martin stupidly forgetting that the angry man, who was now leveling up to him, was in fact ex-military. His eyes glared at Martin as they fought back tears, through gritted teeth he slightly growled. "And?"

"John..." Greg warned, placing a hand in the little space that remained between the pair. "He's the one flying us home"

"Well...I..." Martin stumbled as he backed away. "I-I'm not right about many things, but uh…I thought they were all wrong, the media. I thought Mr Holmes was a remarkable man…uh…they neglected to mention that case with that hound fiasco and I...I believe he was an innocent man Doctor Watson."

Johns head hung as he sat down on the stairs to GERTI as Martin placed a hand on his shoulder. With apologetic eyes, John smiled. Martin moved towards the stairs and John extended his hand and he shook it. As he looked to Greg, a large black jaguar with tinted windows pulled up behind him. John rolled his eyes. "That would be Mycroft."

The door opened and out stepped a slim, brown haired man with a devilish smile. He held a leather bag in his hand with 'M.H' embossed in silver on one side and an umbrella in the other.

"John. Detective Inspector." he nodded, hooking the umbrella over his arm. "Captain Crieff, I assume all is well for today?"

"Yes sir. Will we be expecting our fourth passenger soon?"

"Imminently." Mycroft smiled. He placed his bag on the ground and moved to the door at the rear of the car. John and Greg shot each other a confused look and shrugged. As Mycroft opened the door, out of the car stepped a tall man with ginger hay-like hair, matching beard and magnified glasses, wearing a scruffy tweed suit. He held a pile of books in his arms and a shoulder bag that was probably filled with more books.

"John, Detective Inspector. This is Mr Pasunfaux." Mycroft said, they smiled.

"S-sorry we are later than y-you gentlemen. I had to grab s-some more b-books before I left" he grinned.

Martin carried on back into the plane and smiled to Arthur as he passed him standing ready to greet their passengers. As he disappeared into the flight deck Martin could hear Arthurs repetitive 'Good Morning and welcome to MJN air.'. Douglas was sat finishing off the cup of coffee that Arthur had brought in earlier.

"Martin."

"Douglas." Martin took off his cap. "Everything ready?"

"Yes…Look Martin... about earlier…"

"No worries Douglas, you're right, it's none of my business."

They sat in silence for a moment, looking at the control panel, balancing various levels and buttons.

"Hi Skip, all seated and ready back here, ready when you are" Arthur said over the intercom.

"Righto." Martin said. "Tower this is GOLF-TANGO-INDIA requesting the all clear"

"Rodger that GOLF-TANGO-INDIA, all clear, safe flight and Merry Christmas"

GERTI began to taxi down the runway.

"Good Morning Gentlemen, this is Captain Martin Crieff speaking. We would like to welcome you onboard this MJN flight to London. Flight duration is around 45 minutes. We are expecting a fairly smooth flight today, some snow is forecast for later on but hopefully it won't _snow_ us down." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Once again we thank you for choosing to fly with us today and we hope you enjoy your flight"

"Snow us down?" Douglas chuckled. "Really Martin?".

"I thought it was good."

"And how long have you wanted to slip that in?" Douglas teased.

Martin pouted and sighed. "Since November hit and our chances of snow doubled."

"Oh, Martin." Douglas laughed. "Post take off checks complete…Fancy a game?".

"What did you have in mind?"

"The travelling Lemon?"

**P-S**

Douglas returned smiling. "Martin, It's your turn again."

Martin walked into the cabin to see Arthur sat talking to the Detective about crime shows, and Carolyn was serving Tea to the one they called Mycroft.

"So how do you cope with all the travelling in your job?" Arthur asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well travelling to Scotland Yard and back to London all the time?" Martin rolled his eyes as Greg looked at him.

"Arthur, what do you think Scotland Yard is?".

"Well…isn't it a garden where all the police officers go?".

"In Scotland?" Martin asked.

"Yeah." Arthur smiled looking back to Greg for an answer.

Greg smiled. "Uh…it's very tiring."

"I bet it's a nice Garden though!"

"Oh the best…" John laughed, looking up from his book.

"Have you been there Doctor?"

Johns smile turned into one of despair. "Yeah a few times, but it was years ago, I had a friend that I used to go there with."

"Oh yeah, the Detective fellow." Arthur said.

"Arthur, I think I heard Douglas wanting more coffee earlier, did you want to go get him some?"

"Oh yes! Right away Skip!"

"Is he always like that?" Greg asked.

"Um…Yes." They laughed.

"Is everything ok Captain?" Mycroft asked. "You and the first officer have been in and out of here quite a bit."

"Yes. All good." Martin said looking around the Cabin. "Just part of the Special service MJN offer."

The librarian sneered looking up from his book. "Nothing to do with a certain citrus game then?"

Martin frowned at Mr Pasunfaux who seemed to be slightly different in his tone. Ignoring him he spent another 5 minutes subtly looking around the cabin before feeling defeated and headed back to the flight deck when there was an abrupt outburst from John.

"You. Why do you keep looking at me?" He stood pointing at Mr Pasunfaux.

"I-I don't d-do I?" He stuttered. His eyes looked familiar to John.

"You do. What are you? 40? 41 years old? Book dealer with low self-standards judging by the way you keep yourself. You look at me like you know me, but that can't be the case. You have an oddly unique name that i would have remembered. French by the sound of it. Clearly too weak and too cowardly to have been military. So what is it? I don't appreciate people staring at me sir."

"John, stop it." Greg whined."I know you don't particularly like flying but please just sit."

"No." Mycroft sneered staring at the librarian. "Maybe you should tell them who you really are Mr Pasunfaux?".

"'Pas un Faux' is french for 'not a fake'. You do observe Doctor Watson." The librarian took off his glasses and peeled away his apparently fake ragged beard. "But apparently still not deep enough." Wiping his face with a handkerchief he stood in the isle.

For a moment Martin stared, pointing, having what he could only affectionately describe as an Arthur moment, Carolyn joined, standing together wondering what on earth they were witnessing. John's face was flushed red with anger, his fists clenched, and baring white knuckles. Sherlock met Johns glare. John alternated from standing with his hands on his hips to pointing angrily at Sherlock. Sherlock backed away from him, towards the toilet, his hands raised. He shot Mycroft, who was stood smiling next to a gob-smacked Greg, an angry look in between his worried looks at John.

"You...I thought..." He pointed at Sherlock before pausing, swallowing and placing his hands on his hips again and looking to the floor. Sherlock stepped forward with his hand out towards John, a bad move to say the least. John flinched at the touch, and before he knew it, Sherlock was pinned against the toilet door, Johns arm against his neck. His hands holding on to his arm and he tried fidgeting free. Failing. Martin and Carolyn had jumped back into the flight deck door, opening it, alerting Douglas and Arthur to the events. Greg stepped forward to break them up, but was halted by Mycroft's umbrella across his chest.

"Why don't we let him get it all out Detective Inspector…and I do like a good show. And I doubt Doctor Watson would really kill a man on an Airplane…with all these witnesses anyway."

"For 3 years Sherlock. 3 Bloody years! You Bloody Arse!" He growled. He let him go then gestured upwards before rubbing his forehead and looking to the floor. Sherlock coughed and rubbed his neck.

"I had to" Sherlock spluttered before he was on his back after a brief encounter with John's fist. Before anyone could react John was on top of Sherlock, pinning him to the ground. They watched as John held Sherlock's wrists against GERTIs hard floor, his legs pinned by Johns.

"Do you know how long I tortured myself for the last words we exchanged in Barts? Not seeing through any of your shit? Watching people think you were a…you were my best friend Sherlock…I trusted you."

Sherlock didn't try to move from Johns hold. Nor did he try to stop John's tears fall on him. Or try to determine the extent of damage that his throbbing cheek had sustained.

"They were going to kill you." He looked into Johns eyes. "I had to protect you."

Johns grip loosened and he moved back from Sherlock, slumping against the toilet door. Sherlock stayed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

"You've been alive..." John choked, controlling his anger. "…and you didn't tell me, didn't trust me. You told the bloody person that caused all the mess with the media, but you wouldn't tell me, you wouldn't tell your..."

Sherlock said nothing. "John. My brother came to me for money and refuge. It was the least I could do."

"Yes. Yes it is." John spat at Mycroft. He looked down at the blood on his knuckles and to Sherlock who still lay on the floor.

"If I didn't die...Mrs Hudson, Lestrade...you…would have. A wise man once told me that Friends protect people, so I protected them." Sherlock sat up as blood ran down his cheek. "I protected you by slowly depleting Moriartys web. I knew they'd be watching you after I was gone so I couldn't risk you knowing of me and that putting your life in danger. But I'm here now and when we return to London, I would much appreciate my blogger, whom I have dearly missed, to join me once again in another case?" Sherlock attempted to smile but flinched when his wound became apparent once more.

John looked to Carolyn. "Can I have your first aid kit please?"

"Yes, certainly." Carolyn grabbed the small green box and passed it to John, who knelt in front of Sherlock. Grabbing a cotton bud John dribbled antiseptic water on it before wiping Sherlock's face.

"Still the cheek?" Sherlock mumbled. "Must mean you still want me around."

"Don't push your luck." John placed a clean cotton bud over the cut and padded it with gauze and medical tape. They sat on the floor for a moment, just looking at one another.

"I am sorry." Sherlock said standing.

"Why today?" John said looking at both Mycroft and Sherlock as he stood.

"I didn't want you to be alone at Christmas" Sherlock said placing a hand on Johns shoulder. "Merry Christmas John."

"Merry Christmas you stupid sod." John pulled Sherlock into a hug, which Sherlock awkwardly stood in, but accepted fully. They stood with their hands on each others shoulders smiling. There were still unanswered questions between the two, Martin could tell. But an airplane was no place for it.

"Uh Captain." Douglas said. "We're about to hit London skies, time for the descent."

"Yes, right." Martin said returning to his seat as Douglas's voice rang out through the cabin.

"Good Morning once again Gentlemen, this is First Officer Douglas Richardson, if you and the crew could return to your seats, you will see that the seatbelt signs are now on as we prepare for our descent back into London…much like the Angel Gabriel's down to Mary. The weather is sunny and there is no chance of immaculate conception along the way. We hope you have had a _Merry_ flight with MJN today and it seemed to me that_ time flew_ on your short journey with us. Thank You." Douglas turned off the cabin intercom as Carolyns disapproving voice came over the flight deck intercom, the two of them laughed and headed for London.

**P-S**

"Fancy Sherlock Holmes being on GERTI" Arthur said cleaning the cabin when everyone left.

"Fancy him being genuine" Carolyn said. "Hang on…Douglas…didn't you say the papers were right when this all came out three years ago?"

Douglas cleared his throat. "I don't recall that."

"Yes!" Martin pipped in. "I thought the papers were wrong. We bet on it. And now it transpires you were wrong… and I was right. I actually won a bet."

"So that £50 and a month of cheese boards was actually mine." Martin was starting to get excited. "I think I'm owed it."

"I think he is Douglas." Carolyn smirked.

"Fine…only if you can find the Lemon." Douglas said snidely. Martin turned as white as a sheet. He'd searched the cabin top to bottom so it must be in the flight deck. He looked in the flight deck closet and there sat on the shelf, brandishing a small picture of an otter and in a nest of tinsel was the small yellow citrus and an envelope addressed to him. He took the small pile and sat in his seat opening the letter.

'Martin,

I know sometimes I act like a dick to you because I am older and wiser than you, and your ego can't handle that. But it is the season of good will yada yada and I know you live in that shoddy little student loft, but well, I thought maybe after all these years and the somewhat friendship we seem to have built up that you would like to move into the spare bedroom and if you don't annoy me you can cook, clean and play house maid in return for no rent.

I will warn you. You may be Captain of this vessel but I am the captain of my house.

Merry Christmas Chief,

Douglas.'

"You found it then?" Douglas' voice shocked Martin. He nodded. "And?"

"Yes please Douglas." He stood and went to shake his hand but Douglas brought him in for a manly hug. He wacked him on the back.

"I wanted to do secret Santa and I'd have you to give a present to and that was how I was going to ask you. But Carolyn disagreed so a traditional game was needed."

Martin smiled. "So do I still get my £50 and cheese board?"

"Don't push your luck"

_**Fin**_


End file.
